Return to the Black Hills (14 page)

“Why?” she asked, looking around at the few short blocks of the main drag. “Oh, wait, I remember. There’s a big motorcycle rally here.”

He nodded. “Your friend would blend in a little too well, I think.”

He drove toward the most popular of the campgrounds that swelled to unbelievable numbers for a few short weeks each year. The place was mostly empty now. No gleaming chrome skull in sight. “Let’s check out Deadwood. Does this Zane character like to gamble?”

She didn’t answer right away.

He turned to look at her. “What?”

She startled slightly. “Our team performed an exhibit in Monaco last year and Zane missed it because he was in the middle of a hot run at one of the casinos.” She frowned. “You know, now that I think about it, he’s missed several events lately. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t show up for the Sentinel Pass gig.”

“Why do you put up with that?”

She shrugged. “We’re a team. If one of us is off our game, the others take up the slack. Usually.”

A hint of sadness in the last word made him ask, “But not always?”

She looked out the window instead of answering. Just when he was certain she wasn’t going to say any more on the topic, she told him, “Last year in Japan, I didn’t do as well as I should have. I had a very ‘disappointing’ performance,” she said making halfhearted air quotes.

“What happened?”

“The night we arrived in Tokyo, I had a call from Remy telling me Mom’s kidneys were shutting down. When I left, Mom was on dialysis and doing pretty good, so this was a big change. Her doctors moved her up on the donor list. A list I’d failed to join before I left.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know why, but she told him. “If I’d had invasive tests and blood draws, I would have compromised my body. I knew going into this competition it was all or nothing. I gambled. Took a chance that Mom would remain stable until I got home—hopefully with my share of the million dollars in prize money in my pocket.”

A million dollars? No wonder her team was disappointed that she didn’t do better. “What happened in the games? Why did you…um…”

“Fail?” she supplied. She tapped the side of her head. “Ask any professional athlete, they’ll tell you that at least half of any sport is mental. My head wasn’t in it. My mother was dying. I felt guilty. The Bullies were calling constantly, leaving messages at the hotel, texting. Remy’s the only one who didn’t beg me to come home.”

“Why?”

“Twin sense. She guessed what I was going through. Plus, she trusted me to do the right thing.”

“You got tested?”

“It wasn’t easy. Or cheap. Even in as cosmopolitan a city as Tokyo, there were language issues. And insurance issues.” She shuddered. “I had a blood test. They took more vials than I imagined they’d take. Did that contribute to my not being able to climb the exact same wall I flew up the day before in practice? Don’t know. But I washed out, and my team finished in the bottom half of the field.”

She blinked and looked at her lap. “Mom died the next day. While I was on the plane. Somewhere over the Pacific.”

Her tone was flat, but he felt the emotion she was trying to hide. “I’m sorry.”

She flashed him an obviously fake smile. “The good news—if you want to call it that—is that I wasn’t a match. Turns out my blood is full of antibodies and creepy stuff from my many transfusions and skin grafts. If they’d tried to give her my kidney, she would have died anyway.”

He blew out a low breath. Damn. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew she wasn’t the type to share this sort of personal insight with just anyone. He felt privileged, touched. And moved. He wanted to stop the car and hold her in his arms until she cried every one of those tears he knew—
he knew
—she had never shed.

But he didn’t. They weren’t at that place in their relationship.

Hell, he couldn’t say for sure they even had a relationship, but he was beginning to think he wanted one. Maybe even a serious one. But he was pretty certain the same wasn’t true for Jessie.

True, in the end, she couldn’t have saved her mother. But the fact she didn’t try harder, didn’t willingly shine on the whole
Kamikaze
thing and rush home, made it pretty clear to everyone that she was a terrible person.

And no amount of excuses. No rationalization. No quid pro quo in the world made her decision okay.

The fact that Cade hadn’t booted her out of the truck and made her walk home said a lot about him as a man. A kind, nurturing, forgiving man.

No wonder she liked him.

If she were more like him—more normal—she might even consider letting herself get involved with him. For the summer, of course. Not for…um…ever. That was so not her style.

With a huge exhale, she surfaced, swam to the side closest to her little house and levered herself out of the pool to sit with her feet in the water. The late-evening breeze had turned chilly, and when it blew across her wet hair and skin she started to shiver. She was about to reach for her towel when a small shadow separated itself from a bigger shadow and rushed toward her.

Her heart stopped for a fraction of a second until she realized the shadow was actually a small, furry body. Sugar. The infant raccoon had for some unknown reason seemed to have formed an attachment to Jessie. And her delicate little black-gloved fingers somehow had managed to reach inside Jessie’s heart and latch on.

Jessie picked her up and cuddled her close. “Hey, sweetie pie,” Jessie said, anticipating a cold, pokey nose in her ear.

True to form, Sugar rose up on her hind legs and quickly checked out Jessie’s head, face, hair and ears. Jessie’s wet hair obviously confused the little beast, but after a few seconds of sniffing, Sugar must have decided Jessie was still Jessie. She burrowed under Jessie’s chin, rolling to her back.

“Oh, you silly thing,” Jessie said, blowing softly on the raccoon’s fine fur. “How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

Her voice sounded louder than she’d intended. The words seemed to hold significant import that made her want to take them back. From everything she’d ever observed, falling in love made stunt work look like child’s play. She truly didn’t think she was that brave.

She turned her chin to look at the second floor of the big house where a yellow light glowed bright against the dark silhouette of the night sky. Cade. Working late, she guessed.

If she were brave, she knew exactly whose name would be at the top of her list of potential lovers: Cade.

Watching her perform was nothing at all like he’d expected. For one thing, she almost always seemed in complete control of the situation, no matter how dicey it looked on camera. The only time that assessment didn’t apply was when she filled in for Zane on a stunt that involved a car chase. He’d seen the YouTube version, but this clip included text that explained the stunt’s intent. The vehicle she was driving had been rigged for a front-tire blowout, which was supposed to cause the driver to overcorrect, slide and, eventually, turn over. What actually happened was a bizarre rollover flip that had Cade’s heart pumping and armpits tingling with fear.

He played it twice, each time wondering how anyone survived, but the video included footage of the rescue team extracting her from the crushed car body. In true Jessie form, she’d waved to the camera as they pushed her gurney toward a waiting ambulance.

She’d claimed the rollover wasn’t her fault. That meant it had happened despite her skill and planning. He sat unmoving for a good ten minutes, trying to decide how he felt about her career, which appeared to include an inherent danger that in many ways rivaled his late wife’s job.

Finally, he’d clicked off the page and resumed his hunt. Jessie wasn’t his wife, his girlfriend, his significant other. He had no right to criticize her. Period. If their fledgling relationship went any further, he’d give the question of her career choice more thought.

If.
At the moment, he wouldn’t have put money on either outcome.

He returned to his home page and opened a new search. Jessie had mentioned that Zane was ex-military. Maybe he could find some sort of lead through that avenue.

A dead end, he decided a few minutes later. He was poised to click on another link when his phone rang. He quickly answered it so the sound didn’t wake Shiloh, who was asleep a couple of doors down the hall. “Hello?”

“Hi. You weren’t in bed, were you?”

Kat.

He closed the lid of the laptop and got up from his father’s big, comfortable leather armchair—Cade’s favorite piece of furniture in the house. “Nope. I was doing some work on the computer. What’s up?”

“Nothing, really. I thought I’d see if you have plans this weekend.”

He thought a moment. “No. Not really. Why?”

“I want to invite my family and me to a barbecue-slash-pool party at your house.”

Cade chuckled. “Oh, you do, do you? What am I barbecuing?”

“How ’bout bison burgers? My treat, of course, since you’re supplying the grill…and the pool.” Her laugh sounded a bit self-conscious. “Remy told us you’d opened the pool, and when the boys heard that, they were practically out of their minds with envy.”

“I don’t blame them. The water’s great. As much as it pains me to admit this, Buck did good where the pool is concerned, and your boys are welcome to use it anytime.”

“Including this weekend?”

Cade walked to the window and looked down at the pool, absently wondering if his renters might be interested in joining the fun. A movement—a black silhouette, really, backlit by the blue-green glow of the underwater light—caught his attention. He looked a moment longer to be sure it wasn’t Shiloh. No. It was Jessie.

“Cade?”

“What? Oh, sorry. I was checking my calendar,” he lied. “Completely open. What time do you want this shindig to start?”

They discussed logistics a few minutes longer, then hung up.

He stood at the window, debating. He didn’t need an excuse to talk to Jessie, but he also didn’t need to go outside to deliver an invitation that could be asked and answered via text.

But texting lacked the personal warmth of a face-to-face exchange, he decided. And since when was warmth a bad thing?

He shoved his feet into his oldest pair of boots and hurried out the door.
Let her still be there,
he silently wished.
Let her…

She was sitting on the side of the pool, a towel draped around her shoulders. She seemed to be having a one-sided conversation with someone.

Sugar. The raccoon kit, he realized. The little animal had developed a real attachment to Jessie—much to Shiloh’s consternation.

“Hey,” he called out to avoid startling her.

She turned toward the sound of his voice. The moon was faint, but the glow from the windows where her sister apparently was watching TV and the blue-green underwater spot cast her in such a flattering light she looked like a mermaid carved from marble.

The raccoon leaped from Jessie’s arms and went scurrying toward its remodeled dog crate, which had been moved to a spot below Jessie’s window—because that seemed to be Sugar’s favorite place in the whole world.

Jessie stood, carefully putting her good foot under her first. She hopped a couple of steps to catch her balance, but within a second or two, she was facing him, towel tucked firmly around the tops of her breasts.

“You’re up late.”

He was, considering he’d started his day well before dawn. But he didn’t feel the least bit tired. Not now, anyway. “I saw you from my window. Thought you might like some help with the cover.”

She wiggled her finger. “Nope. My finger’s in good shape. I think I can flip the switch without help.”

He chuckled, acknowledging his extremely lame excuse.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Oh,” she said. “In that case, would you mind getting the pool cover for me? I need to get out of this wet suit. But don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

The cover completed its course with a loud thunk. Cade squatted and turned the switch to the locked position then clicked off the underwater light. With the glow from the pool extinguished, it took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, but the moment they did, he felt Jessie materialize beside him. Even in the dim light he could see she’d changed into baggy gray sweats. Her feet were still bare.

“Dark, huh?”

“That’s a serious understatement,” she said, looking skyward. “Wow. I know L.A. is famous for its star sightings, but it can’t hold a candle to this place.”

The clever pun and honest awe made him reach for her hand. “If you think that’s something, come with me.”

Her fingers closed around his as if they’d been holding hands all their lives. “Let me warn you, if what you’re going to show me involves etchings, I’ve seen them before and wasn’t impressed.”

Humor. Damn, he liked a woman who could laugh at herself.

“No etchings. I promise.”

“Okay. Let me grab my flip-flops.” Shoes on, she was ready.

Now that his night vision had kicked in, he could pick his way through the damp grass without worry of bumping into something painful. He grabbed two oversize towels from the clothesline as they passed. “When I was a kid, I used to sneak out of the house to come up here,” he said.

At the edge of the lawn, he hesitated. “It’s a bit uphill but it’s not far. Can your ankle handle it?”

“If I can use you for a crutch, it shouldn’t be a problem.” She tightened her grip in a reassuring way.

The knoll wasn’t much to look at by day—most people probably never gave it a second glance. But at night it was like a miniature observatory. He spread out the towels, side by side, then helped her to sit.

He quickly joined her, then dropped backward, linking his fingers behind his head. Jessie copied him, their elbows touching. She went still, her breathing barely audible. After a good minute of silence, she made a soft “Wow.”

He stared, unblinking, trying to recall the constellations he’d memorized from a book he’d checked out of the school library. His brother once told him Buck knew the names of all the star formations, but Cade had never been able to talk his dad into joining him here. A fact that still brought a small, familiar ache to his heart. Maybe he needed to make that happen once his father returned.

“Shiloh and I came here wearing snowmobile suits and winter boots the first week we moved in. The winter constellations are different, of course.”

“Remy and I loved Greek and Roman mythology when we were kids. We had a homemade telescope out of soup cans. It would have been so great to have a parent who was into that, too. Mom definitely wasn’t that kind of person.”

He shifted sideways, lifting up on one arm to rest his head in his palm. “What kind of person was she?”

She didn’t answer right away. He sensed she was searching for a politically correct answer.

“Busy,” she finally replied. “Keeping three beauty parlors going while raising five daughters
and
maintaining an active dating life was no picnic. You know?”

Did he ever—and he was talking one kid. Five? The thought shook him to the core. Or, maybe being a widower was worse because his skill set was less hearth-and-home oriented. He’d been a complete and utter mess right after Faith died, but he’d done his best to keep his focus on Shiloh and her needs. He got the impression that wasn’t the case where Jessie’s mother was concerned. Mrs. Bouchard might have put her own needs ahead of her daughters’ welfare. But neither Jessie nor Remy seemed too screwed up—despite Jessie’s non-traditional job choice—so the woman must have done something right.

Before he could say as much, Jessie turned on her side, too. Their faces were a foot or so apart. Close enough for him to smell the minty freshness of her toothpaste. “Can I tell you something I probably shouldn’t tell you?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“You’re the first single dad I’ve ever…um…lusted after. Too blunt, huh?”

Blunt, yes, but also honest, with a side of vulnerability. How could he resist that?

“Well, this is a first for me on a number of levels, too. But I’m okay with that. Are you?”